


The Ghost on the Shore

by ghostontheshore



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cats, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Gen, Hermit TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Injured TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Xisumavoid (Video Blogging RPF), Physical Abuse, Presumed Dead, Recovery, Service Animals, Unsympathetic Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), before they actually appear, didnt want to bait anyone with character tags, he's going to act like it, its not going to be as depressing as im making it sound!!, or kinda, pussboy is in this, pussboy is tommys therapy animal dw about it, tags will also change!!!!, that said, thatll change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostontheshore/pseuds/ghostontheshore
Summary: Tommy wakes up in the ocean, confused and hurt after his one-sided fight with Dream in the prison.Xisuma finds him unconscious with a cat curled into his side after pulling himself to shore. He wasn't just going to leave the kid there, especially not when his appearance in the server made no sense.-Hemitcraft/Dream SMP cross over!! This is going to start off with just Tommy but rest assured, I refuse to end this without everyone getting their chance to heal. I'm familiar with all of the creators in S7 of HC and all the current members of DSMP (most of which from before dsmp began).
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 166





	1. Prologue: Mellohi

**Author's Note:**

> Hemits may seem out of character, I tried to picture how they would act as characters rather than themselves as Hermitcraft isn’t actually roleplay. Also, let’s face it, none of the hermits would immediately accept Tommy as one of their own & they certainly wouldn’t care enough to watch him heal, not in Minecraft. If either of the groups find this and want me to remove it, I will! 
> 
> Also, I have no beta reader so I'm sorry in advance. Feel free to point out any mistakes/things that could be improved.

Tommy died alone.

Of course, he wasn’t really alone. As he lay screaming on the floor for his life, he was being watched by furious eyes. The prison warden was lurking by the entrance, begging himself to find a way to fix the situation without tearing down the most important walls still standing. 

But in every way that mattered, Tommy died alone.

The blank, never-changing expression of his old friend’s mask stared down at him, the only hint at emotion the booming voice and the shake of a fist as it slammed itself down against skin again and again.  
“Stop it!” his throat was hoarse already, “Stop!”

He flung his arms instinctually over his head and face, curling in on himself. It didn’t do him any good. His bruised arms fell away easily with one swift kick and with a final cry, Dream threw the last punch. It rocked him, his ears ringing, sight blurring and body numbing. His mind drifted and Tommy could only stare blankly upwards at the obsidian ceiling that seemed to get further away from him every second. 

The last thing he heard was laughing.


	2. One: Ghost on the Shore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy dies??

"One of the things I always find in life, is that the most satisfying thing with anything is closure, y'know? Putting a proper lid on everything. Going ‘Right, this is done. This is done, and it's all ended.’ I'm gonna go to the prison. I'm gonna read the books he wrote for me — 'cause I know he has and then... I think we'll have some closure."

The first thing he heard was silence.

A deafening, lonely silence that he’d never experienced before- a silence that seemed so… empty. 

There were no unnoticed ambient sounds of wildlife,  
no light howl of the wind,  
no rustling of trees,  
no beating of wings,  
no strings hitting against flagpoles,  
no gentle idle breathing,   
no scratch of clothing against skin,  
no ticking of a clock,  
no smooth turn of a books page,  
no soft bubbling and flow of lava,  
no purring from a content cat,  
nothing.

To match the uncomfortable lack of sound, all around him, in every direction, was a long stretch of pure darkness. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was certain that it was never-ending in every direction. There was nothing to see and yet it was one of the worst things he’d ever laid eyes on.

Tommy’s arms lay numbly at his sides, supported by nothing but the void and drifting beside him nonetheless. The tears from his eyes never stopped flowing, though his mind didn’t remember why they were there or where they were falling. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t feel anything.

Was this death?

Endlessly floating through the void, no sound, sight or feelings to have to worry about?

There was no time to think about it.

With no warning, Tommy felt water crash into him, slamming forcefully against every injury he’d gained and drawing a garbled shout from his mouth, immediately flooding with saltwater. 

His eyes stung viciously so he squeezed them shut, throwing his arms and legs around in an adrenaline rush, forcing himself upwards against the screaming pain of the bruises and cuts that littered his body. 

His head broke through the water’s surface quickly, eyes shooting open and darting around for something to grab onto or swim towards. Relief flooded his veins as they landed upon a sandy shore just a few feet ahead of him. 

Entirely focused on survival (was he alive?), he clawed his way through seaweed, sand and water and pulled himself halfway onto land, the water still beating at the backs of his legs.

Tommy cringed and cursed to himself, rolling over onto his back and prying the wet fabric of his brother’s coat off of his arms and discarding it into the sand beside him, falling backwards onto the cushioned floor. 

He winced once at the impact and twice at the bright light of the sun, doing nothing to warm his body or dry him off.

Swallowing harshly, he turned his face away and looked to the treeline. They were tall, jungle, the vines creeping over the grass and onto the sand where they lay with nothing to grab onto. He stared at them unseeing and desperately tried to let his mind catch on up to the situation. The sudden change in scenery did nothing to aid the struggle and confusion he was feeling.

During his exile, he’d mentally mapped all of the nearby areas. He knew he wasn’t near home, he had no way of getting anywhere close to the ocean from the prison cell, even if some glitch had sent him out of the walls. And Dream had never been able to figure out the teleportation mechanic he had access to. 

So was he dead after all?

His breath got stuck in his throat. There wasn’t another explanation, he had to be dead. The pain in his body had only increased since he woke up drowning, the salt burning and the bruises finally taking shape. Why was death painful? Was it not bad enough to just be dead?  
“W…” his voice was scratchy, it hurt to speak, “Will.”  
He raised a shaky hand to wipe at his eyes, “Wilbur? Please-”  
“Will please, I don’t- I don’t know what’s going on. Where are you?”

He took a weak breath in, his chest tight.  
“Ghostbur?”  
Nothing.  
“Schlatt?”   
Nothing.  
“Mexican Dream?” he tried.

But nothing happened, there was no shift in the air around him. Tommy was getting desperate but he knew his voice wouldn’t allow him to yell.

So, instead, he cried.

He fished to his left and bundled the wet brown fabric in broken fingers, cuddling to his chest and sobbing. With a painful cry, he brought his knees up. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

He was supposed to say goodbye to Dream- to his tormentor, celebrate with Sam and Tubbo (Sam had been so supportive of his attempt at a fresh start) and move onto the rest of his long life surrounded by friends and making amends. Did he not deserve a second chance at happiness?   
…  
Didn’t Wilbur?

With a new perspective, he thought back to them- Wilbur and Schlatt.

He thought about Wilbur, his brother in everything except blood, destroying what they’d fought so hard for, getting down on his knees surrounded by ruins and screaming for his own father to kill him.

He thought about Schatt, drunk out of his mind, spewing his desperate attempt at intimidation as the server members surrounded him and threw all of his wrongdoings into his face, clutching a hand to his chest and dying on his own terms.

He thought about how he’d never gotten more than a day to mourn the loss of his brother, the person he’d followed for most of his life with admiration and love.

He thought about how Tubbo had gotten even less with Schlatt. 

To the rest of the server, both of them deserved what they got. They were never mourned and nobody had to take the blame for it. They deserved to die, they were the villains.

Tommy wasn’t sure anymore.

He didn’t want to just be another dead villain.  
He wasn’t supposed to be the bad guy, he was supposed to go out with a bang and ‘die like a hero’ with his friends by his side and enemies ahead of him. He would take his final shot and be content when he died. 

Instead, here he was, 16 years old and laying broken in death, pushed into a corner by the only man he’d ever feared, beaten and tossed aside. It was pathetic. There was no explosion, no war, no speech, no glory and no purpose. 

And finally, he thought about the people he’d left behind.   
Would it be the same for them? Would they mourn for an hour and move on to better things like they had with Wilbur? Would they celebrate another victory as they had with Schlatt? 

Would they even care?

He’d finally found his reason to live and the world had punished him for it. 

Through the crying, he barely registered when he started shaking. His hair was plastered to his head by water and sweat, his body ached like one huge open wound, his head was spinning and drifting from thought to thought with no real purpose.

So much for getting better.

Before he lets himself fall into unconsciousness again, he hears the sound of rockets. And, against his better instincts, he finds himself praying that it’s Techno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Tommy wakes up again! But this time, he's not alone and there's a lot of unanswered questions from both sides. Ft a familiar cat.


	3. Two: The Youth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy doesn't die! Also cat :)

"There's one line that rings through my head as I sleep of Wilbur saying 'Tommy, Let's be the bad guys.' -and I don't-- I don't want to be the bad guys!" 

-

For the third time, Tommy woke up to the feeling that his life was over. He kept his eyes closed. He could already tell by the soft texture pressing against his back that he’d been moved once more. As better as this experience already was, he was ready to open his eyes and face whatever was next. 

The pain in his body had all but disappeared, replaced by a soft dull ache and a heavy weight on his chest, limiting his ability to breathe just enough for it to be uncomfortable. And then the weight shifted.

He cracked open his eyes to see a low stone ceiling, almost concerning but clearly hand-built, dotted with smooth stone and bricks that he rarely saw used. Bookshelves covered the far wall, cupping a rather small enchantment table and making everything seem much more closed in and confining, something that would usually send him running in the opposite direction. But here? It seemed homely. 

It was so obviously not a place he’d seen before, nobody he knew that would willingly let them into his home had some hidden cave house with an enchanting table. Not even his friends would trust him to not just pick it up and run back home with it.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he turned his gaze finally down to his chest. His breath hitched and the warmth seemed to seep out of the room- despite everything, despite such vivid memories that would disprove the sight, ‘Pussboy’ the terribly named prison mate was curled into a soft white and grey ball, purring softly in his sleep. Tommy swallowed, his throat dry.

“Good morning!” 

He flung himself upright, snapping his head to the doorway beside him with no time wasted. Pussboy dropped into his lap unceremoniously and unbothered. For a painful moment, either of out denial or baseless hope, he’d thought the voice belonged to Phil. Blond hair entered his vision, paired with a strong pair of wings and an upbeat British accent. 

The stranger hopped up the last step and stepped carefully through the room, feathers brushing against the books and walls as he manoeuvred his way towards the, to scratch behind the cat’s ear, “and good morning to Jellie of course.”

Tommy looked helplessly onwards as the man realised his discomfort and took a few steps backwards, “sorry for the mess, mate, I haven’t actually been here in a while,” he offered a small but seemingly sincere smile, hovering in the centre of the room, “honestly forgot how small I made this thing. How you feeling?”  
‘Terrified’, his mind supplied. Confused. Upset. Hurt. Disoriented. Guilty.  
“Thirsty,” he settled on.

With a nod, the man looked around the room and clambered over the bottom of the bed to a barrel cemented into the floor. He began to shift through the items and Tommy shifted, twisting his body to look behind him. There was stained glass, just unclear enough that he couldn’t see anything outside other than a vague blur of green and brown under the dark but moonlit sky. So they weren’t underground.

He had to ask, “are you new?”  
“New to what?”  
The man paused for a moment and fished out what he was looking for.  
“The server,” Tommy answered with a furrowed brow, now uncertain.  
“Am I new? I’ve been here months!” his voice held an amused tilt, “you’re the new one, you just appeared out of the blue a thousand blocks away with Jellie in your coat and half a heart of health. I feel like I should be the one asking the questions here.”

“But I don’t-” he wracked his brain desperately, there was no way he’d forgotten an entire member, that wasn’t even possible. He made a point of introducing himself to everybody as soon as they were joined so it wasn’t as if he’d just not spoken to him. Especially not after months. 

Then he froze, Pussboy jumping down from the red sheets to the floor below.  
“Where am I?”

His eyes visibly lit up and grinning, he gestured around the room, his eyes stopping on the cat for just a moment too long, “my humble abode. Bit small, bit of a knock-off hobbit hole but I think it looks alright for a starter base.”  
Tommy forced back a scowl, he didn’t need to start making enemies just yet, “what server?”  
He laughed but it wasn’t fully convincing, “It’s Hermitcraft, didn’t you know that when you broke your way in?”  
“I didn’t break in!” he defended automatically, “I don’t know where the fuck I am- I thought I was dead a few minutes ago! I don’t know why this fucking cat is back, I don’t know who you are, I don’t know what Hermitcraft is and I don’t know why you keep talking about jelly!  
Nothing is making sense and you’re just making it worse!”

The smiles stopped and the man shifted guiltily, “well, we didn’t have much to go on, Xisuma couldn’t figure out how to kick you and your login message was barely even readable. We know just as much as you do, probably less.”  
Tommy hoped his expression was carrying as clear of a message as he intended, a very strong ‘I doubt that’.

“And Jellie, that’s the cat, I have no idea how she found you but she wouldn’t leave your side.”  
“What? ‘Jellie’? That’s my cat, he just appeared in the-” Pussboy looked between them and he decided to hold his tongue, “he just appeared.”  
“Huh,” he didn’t seem too surprised, “weird, they look the same.”  
“His collar is my bandana I- no, no, I don’t care. Who are you?”  
“Oh, we really jumped the gun, huh? I’m Grian.”  
“Shit name,” he mumbled, slumping against the backboard.  
“Well then, what’s yours?”  
Tommy tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, paused, and answered, “Tommy.”  
Half of a name was more honest than none of a name. The Innit wasn’t important. He couldn’t let his guard down the first time a person is nice to him, it would be immature, stupid and unsafe. 

Grian nodded, and snapped his fingers, looking through his inventory with a purpose,” this is just full of junk now but… here!” He jumped back happily and held up the item in his hand to show Tommy. A golden apple.

With no cautiousness, he tossed it from one hand to the next before throwing it carelessly towards the bed where Tommy practically threw himself onto the stone floor to catch in time.  
He turned the valuable food over in his hands, unwilling to waste it when he was on full health but so so desperate to eat anything other than raw potatoes. 

“I chucked some uh, ‘borrowed’ healing potions at you earlier,” he winked, “let me know if that’s not enough.”

Hesitantly, he nodded and took a small bite from the yellow skin, almost audibly sighing at the pleasant rush of warmth that coated his veins. Pussboy was watching him from the floor, letting Tommy heal himself past full, relishing in the temporary effects it brought. He hadn’t felt this good in weeks.

“So... I was supposed to message Xisumavoid as soon as you woke up. Thought I’d let you have a moment to yourself before I did.”

A chill ran up his spine.  
He looked up away from the doe eyes of his cat and up to the other side of the room where Grian still lurked by the stairs. All the nice feelings the apple had brought with it had flushed out just as fast as they’d come.

“He’s- he’s the admin?”

Grian hummed a confirmation and messed around with the watch on his wrist, “he’s usually working on something, he didn’t want to just sit around waiting for you to wake up.”

Tommy spared a glance down, his wrist was visible without the coat folded at the foot of the bed, the watch staring blankly back, no indication that it’d ever turn on again. He didn’t bother checking the compass.

Shaking his head, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, Pussboy standing up and shoving his head against them with a loud meow. He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself and let the apple drop as he stood up.  
“I can just leave, I’ll figure it out. I swear you won’t even know I was here I-”

“Woah, woah, woah!”  
A concerned pair of hands were suddenly hovering over him, unsure of what to do.  
“I can wait a while to call him, it’s fine- he just wants to make sure you’re awake and talking. You really shook things up by just,” he waves his hands around vaguely, “manifesting, y’know?”

He shook his head again harshly, “No, I don’t know! I just woke up in the ocean of a server I’ve never fucking heard of with a cat I watched die.”

Grian glanced down with a from to the aforementioned cat who had moved onto sniffing around the floor. He seemed completely oblivious to any tension between the two.  
Exhausted mentally and physically, Tommy let himself fall back onto the edge of the mattress, burying his face deep into his hands and biting the inside of his cheek to stop his emotions from playing up and making things worse.

There was a sigh from the room and the bed dipped beside him, “It’s fine, Tommy, there are portals out of here at every event, you’re not stuck here.”

He sniffed and wiped at his dry eyes with the back of his hand, nodding and straightening his back, “Yeah- yeah… I know.”

There was a lot he’d have to face when he returned home. He wasn’t sure he was ready to even think about that. Would they even believe him?

For the next few minutes, they sat together in silence. Grian combed through the bright feathers to keep them neat, Tommy absentmindedly ran a hand through the soft fur of his cat, nuzzled back into his side and purring happily at the positive attention.

He appreciated, for one of the first times, the idle sounds of the world. The constant hum of the wind beating against the glass, the ruffle of wings and the shift of fabric beneath them. It was comforting in a way he hadn’t been able to experience in a long time.

Now that things were finally calm, he found himself noticing things much more clearly. His head felt so focused... like swapping servers had rebooted his mind into how it should’ve been the whole time. Well, almost. There was still the looming presence of discomfort in his heart, the knowledge that very soon he’d be willingly returning to everything he’d accidentally left behind. 

Then there was Xisuma, the admin of Hermitcraft.

If he was anything similar to Dream, he already knew he wasn’t going to enjoy however the rest of this day would play out. His hand stalled. He wasn’t ready to face another person like Dream- another person like Wilbur or Schlatt, twisted by the power they were supposed to use to help others. Even Eret and Tubbo had fallen to it. It was inevitable for all he knew. If there was power, corruption would follow. 

So Xisuma? He didn’t want to know what brand of superiority complex would be walking through that door for him.

Small paws wrapped around his hand, tugging at his wrist and pulling him back to the present. The cat had flipped onto his back, legs grasping for his broken watch, not violently or overly playful. 

Despite the thoughts that plagued his mind, Tommy let himself smile. Guilt seeped into his heart dangerously. Why would he ever do that?  
“You seem close,” Grian broke the still silence of the room, fondly watching.  
His eyes didn’t leave the animal below him and slowly, he moved his hand again, letting Pussboy flip himself over to present his back.  
“We’re not,” he said strongly, “but we died- or… I thought we died together. It’s weird.”

When he raises his head to look at Grian, all he sees is pointed confusion. Their eyes meet and it quickly melts into a veil of sympathy. He nods as if he understood perfectly, “good thing you two accidentally hacked your way into here instead then, ay?”  
“Ay…” he agreed awkwardly.

“Listen, I’m sorry to spring this onto you but,” Tommy steeled himself, “I told Xisuma you were awake, he’s been messaging me non-stop and I can’t just keep lying to him.”

He took a shaky breath in and nodded.  
He just needed to get through this one meeting, ask when the next event was and hop through a portal to get back. There was no negative personal connection he could think of that would lead this random server owner into treating him with anything other than basic courtesy. He decided to cling to that fact until the encounter was over and he could go on with his tactic of shutting off his mind and waiting to be returned home.

Even Dream was polite to new guests.

Not that they usually ‘broke in’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Xisuma arrives! Tommy is assigned a task to keep him out of trouble until he can get back home.  
> (A/N really struggled to post this for some reason, praying it works this time)


End file.
